The Case of the Considerate Consultant
by Archea
Summary: We all know about Molly Hooper's not-so-secret wish. On the 20th of December, she receives a note from an anonymous "consultant"... Beware, one pairing may hide another! Molly/Sherlock, Humour, PG.


**Disclaimer : **Sherlock belongs to MM. Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and probably a few others — I'd strongly advise collective babysitting in his case.

**A/N **: Words in bold characters stand for crossed-out words since FFnet doesn't seem to agree with the latter.

**The Case of the Considerate Consultant**

Miss Hooper,

You'll have to forgive this anonymous note in lieu and place of your tofu roll. Have no fear: I am a gentleman and your roll is intact (check lower bistoury drawer). As for my name, I'll have to abstract it yet a tad longer – it is not unknown to you and could misinfluence your reading.

Let us cut a long story short and spare ourselves tedious trivia. You, my dear Miss, are a nice ingenuous woman, and it would be a shame that you attend end-of-year festivities without seeing your dearest wish fulfilled. Your dearest wish, for the past four years, has had dark hair, a switch of a tongue, and the social manners of a tofu roll ostracized by its peers for about the same length of time. Your dearest wish's monogram is S. H., and it is my purpose, should you consent to it, to make it come true.

If you wish me to be less sybilline, eat your roll and leave your answer in the drawer – it will find means of reaching me. Since you for one are a well-educated young person who would shrink from addressing a letter to a non-entity, you may call me John Doe. (1)

Wishing you the best (according to taste),

John

(1) A traditional codename given to corpses which cannot be identified.

MH - SH - MH - SH

Mr Doe,

What's this ? How do you know **about Sherlock and me** that I am acquainted with Sherlock ? What do you want from me ? How do you expect me to trust a complete stranger **again**?

Sherlock has many enemies in England and I wouldn't do a thing to endanger him. So there.

M. Hooper

And your writing is SO feminine for a gentleman.

MH - SH - MH - SH

Miss Hooper,

It seems that we are progressing. Your curiosity is aroused and you acknowledge, if nothing else, my flair for subtlety. Perfect.

Let me term the deal, then. I have grown to know our mutual friend... familiarly enough to offer a few tips as to the best way of defeating his proclaimed indifference towards you. You are free to take them or leave them. Let us say that I'm acting as a free consultant and that you, my client, can terminate this contract at any given time.

In about one hour's time, Miss Hooper, Sherlock Holmes will once more colonize your living (if I may say so) space to learn the ins and outs of a middle-aged lady found dead in Hyde Park this morning with a ticket to the Rubens exhibition and an expression of acute terror on her face. (To avoid potential quid pro quos : no, I myself did not kill her.) My take is that he will run a bee-line to her crystalline lens, trying to ascertain the degree of contraction of the Bowman's muscle in order to gauge the distance between her and the object responsible for her death.

Let four minutes pass. Then walk up to him, bend over his shoulder and murmur in the tone you would use to reason an obstinate child : « If I were you, I'd start with her left ear lobe ».

Walk straight to the door and, pray, Miss Hooper, DO NOT TURN ROUND.

John

PS No perfume. No lipstick. This is important.

MH - SH - MH - SH

Mr Doe,

Oh God, you're the devil. I should really have called the police but curiosity got the better of me and... well. It's not as if there was anything wrong in me helping Sherlock solve a case, is it ? You see, Jeanie from thanatopractice told me that Ken from the reception desk told her that Sherlock came down to wait for Mr Lestrade looking a teensy bit funny. And asked how long my midday pause was supposed to last.

It's a lucky thing Ken still owes me twenty pounds for that picture ticket I stood him, or he would have babbled about the third refrigeration cell, the broken one that's so convenient to hide in, especially when our storage accountant has taken in one beer too many.

I'm totally lost but I'll have another consultation, please.

Molly Hooper

PS Apparently, Mr Lestrade asked him to come back tomorrow to meet the next-of-kins. What do I say if he asks me about this ear ?

MH - SH - MH - SH

Miss Hooper,

Forget the ear. I'd be glad to teach you the long and short of it but this involves a knowledge of Pre-Columbian death rituals which would sound somewhat out of place in the mouth of an English rose. Let us do better : let us plan a diversion.

For this, we must turn to your own field of knowledge. You have an Oxford degree in physical anatomy and biochemistry, which means that pheromones are not Greek to you. (Well, they are, but never mind etymology for now.) Thus you are aware that man can not only recompose them but increase their effect, taking into account the twists and turns of individual neurosystems.

Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hooper, has three nicotine patches on his left forearm and has had them renewed every month for eleven months.

You, my dear Miss, have thirty-six hours to put him on the scent.

John

MH - SH - MH - SH

John,

This is really unethical, you know. This must be close to professional misconduct. How on earth do you know so many things ?

Anyway. I managed to pass through the reception hall as he was shaking the hand of the Pre-Columbian lady's nephew. My former room-mate at Oxford, Susan, now works for a research unit specializing in endocrine glands and I'd tricked her into losing a bet on George Clooney's true age but you probably don't want the tedious trivia. Well, Sherlock's nose certainly did a double take when he saw me and he drooped his lips a little and nearly blinked, which he never does on these premises. So I waved him hello and got my chart for the day, then got into the lift.

Pity I'd drunk up my coffee when he came in later. He did look disappointed. Do you think he'll ask me again ?

Molly

MH - SH - MH - SH

Molly,

NO. NO saying yes to ANY invitation of his for the present. Surely you have not waited four years for a measly cup of coffee ? Pray find some pretext to stay away from the morgue as often as you can for the next five days. My instructions will know how to find you.

John

MH - SH - MH - SH

John,

I really don't understand. My dearest wish was that Sherlock should agree to have coffee with me. Why am I not entitled to my coffee?

Oh well. I'm leaving this in the drawer and going to Susan's to watch _E. R._

Molly

MH - SH - MH - SH

**Dang the little goose** My dearest child,

Because you are going to get something much, much better than a sordid pub where Holmes would lose track of your little pheromone friends after five minutes and lose himself in endless musings as to why the glass before him sports a vertical crack while ontologically prone to horizontal cracks when making a close acquaintance with überdrunks.

Trust me on this, will you ?

On Tuesday, go back to your office. At twelve thirty, Holmes will knock at your door after his weekly crop ride. Exchange a few banters. At twelve thirty-five, a young comedian whom you may have seen on BBC Two but whose face will be a closed book to him will enter pat on cue. Cry out « Tommy ! » in blissful tones. He will take you to lunch at Brown's at my expense. Oh, and remember that while in the mortuary, he is Sir Thomas Meherton, a young and brilliant astrophysicist recently knighted by the Queen and your childhood friend.

Upon your return, show Holmes to the door. A touch of boredom now and then is an excellent purgative for the spirit.

John

MH - SH - MH - SH

John,

With undyed eyebrows, or the deal is off. I may be a pinhead, but there are only so many devils you can set dancing on me.

Molly

MH - SH - MH - SH

Molly,

Stop being a fool and look up your astrophysics.

John

MH - SH - MH - SH

John,

I've had a phone call from John – well, the other John – unless you are both Johns - I'm getting confused. Anyway. It seems that Sherlock is under an attack of spleen and that he's emptied John's gun right into the suspension. John is not happy. Neither is Mrs Hudson. Sherlock told them something about shooting the sun now that he knows how to locate the bloody thing from our perspective. They're a teensy bit worried.

I, meanwhile, am so very happy and grateful to my considerate consultant! So tell me, what should I do next ?

Molly

MH - SH - MH - SH

Dear Molly,

You should pay extra attention, for this will be your last consultation with me.

Tomorrow, you will receive two tickets for Tarlass Gorlanov's one-night recital at the Royal Albert Hall. Note that St Bart's entire staff will benefit from the same treat since as a child the Master was healed of incipient paralysis in his right hand by a British military surgeon stationed in Moscow. That's what St Bart's will be told anyway.

What is important is what _you_ will tell Holmes. Thomas is detained in Bora-Bora by a recalcitrant solar cycle and you wonder if he'd like to come along since all of your colleagues already have tickets.

Oh yes, he will come along.

Now listen carefully. The recital is in two parts. After the first part, take Holmes to the buffet and order a bottle of Mumm Cordon Rouge. (He might let you pay for it, in which case the waiter has been tipped.) Check that he's drunk at least three glasses before he gets back to his seat. The second part will begin with Chopin's Nocturn in E minor adapted for the violin by Saint-Saëns. This is a piece **that Mummy played for** that has had deep sentimental meaning for Sherlock since he was eleven.

The intermission will end at nine forty. Chopin's piece should last about thirteen minutes. Miss Hooper, you have from nine fifty-three to nine fifty-five to _carpe diem_ and capitalize on the Nocturn.

Do not disappoint me.

John

PS French bun twist. Carmine lipstick.

MH - SH - MH - SH

« Good gracious, this is simply awful. What is this pinkish mass doing in the foreground ? »

« Mauve daisies, two pound ten, sir. There's a flower booth at the entrance of the Baker Street station. »

« Typical. And look at this! One wonders how young Williams made it into Intelligence, being so clumsy with an infra-red camera. He seems to have blurred out of focus every other time. »

« Unless I'm mistaken, this is Miss Hooper's hair. »

« ... Oh. Dash it, I had specifically told her to go French. Ah, wait... this is better, much better. You can clearly spot Sherlock's nose under the hair. And... dear me, this one is excellent ! At least the young person did not go stingy on the lipstick – a genuine study in pink ! »

« Sir... don't you think this is a little cruel ? You know very well the study will be short-termed. »

Mycroft Holmes pivoted on a well-waxed Oxford shoe before opening his case and tenderly accomodating the large-sized snapshots into it.

« If your sisterly heart bleeds for Miss Hooper, Anthea, you can still write her a final note of congratulation. Young Adler is quite taken with her and my sources tell me he's being sought for the role of some Doctor God-knows-who on the BBC. He'll probably need a medical consultant. »

« I was not just thinking of Miss Hooper. You still haven't forgiven him, have you ? »

She could see Mycroft's back straighten up into a line that was the exact counterpart to the umbrella he held stick-wise.

« What he did was unforgivable. »

« Sir. You tapped into governmental funds, manipulated an innocent girl, threated a world-renowned violinist with extradition if he did not change his program... »

« I didn't mind his going to Buckingham in his shirt sleeves. Excentricity is a patent British trait and the Home Guard had been warned. His turning down Her Majesty's double offer of a knighthood and a cucumber scone I expected. But... »

« Sir... »

« _He mentioned my diet to the Queen !_ »

The back was visibly sagging and Anthea could not suppress a soft growl of discontent. Mycroft had not hired her because she was one sexy wench but because she had been the only one, during their red tape interview, to give him her sincere opinion of Downing Street's fortes and flaws. He respected her because she did not fear him. Time for her to remind him of the fact.

« Another reason why you should put an end to that silly fad ! Why are you going on with it ? »

A heel spinning counterwise. A stiff upper lip jutting out a tad too far.

« I'm not as thin as... »

« You are who _you_ are ! » the brunette snapped, her patience wearing thin, and for one moment, she wondered if the triple glazing windows of their office had just vibrated along with her ire. In the following silence, she turned her back to him in order to fetch her coat. Six p.m. on a 31rst December : everyone else had left and the automatic locking system would soon be triggered on.

« Anthea... » (Mycroft's voice had recovered its customary steadiness and Anthea braced herself for some minor verbal lashing.) « Do you have some free time tonight ? »

_Tonight ?_ Really, she sometimes suspected that the Almighty had been on a clandestine high when he decreed the Holmes Brothers' existence - they formed a sub-species of their own. She took out her kid gloves and slipped them on, fitting one finger after the other, before she looked up into her Lord and Master's face, which had on a slightly sheepish air.

« For you ? Lots. »

« Perfect. Then would you join me tonight ? Mummy is the last cook in England who knows how to bake a pudding worth this name. And there will be roast turkey with sage, and mince pies. » (She felt him take her hand to slip it under his arm and turned her head, smiling at the slightly carnivorous gleam in his eyes.) « And of course, there will be Sherlock. »

FINIS

A/N : The end of this was inspired by a charming little fanvid on YouTube, "You're The One For Me Fatty" by HeartPrism.


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